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Andrew Springer Feb 2013
Greet death
with your hands in your pockets,
slouched back, cool,
collected, and confident.
Wear a hint of a grin
and a dash of cologne.
Say What took you so long?
Say You're behind the times, man.
Say Dead is the new black.
Coffin is the new condo.
Pallor is the new tan.
La vida muerta.

Greet death
with a fistful of black-eyed susans,
butterflies in your stomach,
and two tickets to tomorrow's sunrise.
Wear your father's cufflinks
and your mother's wedding ring.
Say I brought these for you, babe.
Say Kiss me, kiss me.
Say But wait until the sun comes up.
Just until daybreak.
I want to show you something.
Hasta la muerte, te amo.

Greet death
with a knife at your own neck,
chin up, throat bared,
cardiac in overdrive.
Wear nothing.
Wear nothing.
Say Bring it on *******!
Say Only on my terms.
Say nothing
and open your throat.
and bleed to completion.
El final, el final, el final.

This poem © Gabriel Gadfly. Published Oct 29, 2009
Andrew Springer Feb 2013
My heart is on the pillow
I can not touch your hand.
And precious silence proud of you
My dark room have a band.

It is consist one guitar-bass,
One piano and my voice.
My silence voice, which cry with noise
And moon outside with choice.
Andrew Springer Feb 2013
I breathe in wild
And candle break her mirror,
Her dark and strange
Unfading royal face

And kind of sky,
Which quickly disappear,
Merged with the night
And smelled of opened gap.
Andrew Springer Feb 2013
It isn't time to words.
It's time to hear birds.
To forest's noise and cry,
To yellow green which die,
Which run from our blind.
It's time to hidding sun
In clouds of it's mind,
In rare kind of eyes.
In secret raining's wild, is
it all our blame?

This time is to the shame.
Andrew Springer Jan 2013
Today they say "Goodbye" to someone,
Tomorrow they will say "Farewell, forever"
And the wound in your heart bleeds profusely.
Tomorrow someone returns home,
Only to stand upon the ruins of their own city.
And someone will fall from the top of a crane...

So take care of yourself... Be careful...

Tomorrow morning, someone lying in bed
Will realize that there's no cure for his sickness,
Someone leaving home will get into a car accident.
Tomorrow, somewhere in a hospital
The hand of a young surgeon will slip.
Someone walking in the woods will fall into a mine...

So take care of yourself... Be careful...

Tonight an airplane flies above us,
Tomorrow it will crash into the ocean
And all the passengers will die...
Tomorrow, somewhere, who knows where?
There will be war, an epidemic, a huge blizzard...
And black holes in the vastness of space...

So watch out for yourself, Be careful...

Viktor Tsoi
Andrew Springer Jan 2013
A warm place
But the streets are waiting for the footprints of our feet
Stardust on our boots.
A soft armchair, checkered plaid,
A trigger not pulled in time.
A sunny day - in blinding dreams.

Blood type - on the sleeve
My serial number - on the sleeve,
Wish me luck in battle, wish for me
To not stay in this grass,
To not stay in this grass.
Wish me luck, wish me luck!

And there is enough to pay, but I don't want
Victory at any cost.
I don't want to put my leg on anyone's chest.
I would have liked to stay with you,
To just stay with you,
But the star high in the sky is calling me.

Blood type - on the sleeve
My serial number - on the sleeve,
Wish me luck in battle, wish for me
To not stay in this grass,
To not stay in this grass.
Wish me luck, wish me luck

Viktor Tsoi
Andrew Springer Jan 2013
White snow, gray ice,
Upon the dry, cracked earth.
A quilt lies on top -
A city in the loop of the road.

Above the city, clouds float by,
Blocking the light of the skies.
Above the city, yellow smoke.
The city stands for two thousand years
Under the light of the star that we call the sun

For two thousand years there is war,
War for no particular cause.
War is in the hands of the young,
Medicine against wrinkled skin.

The blood, the red, red blood,
In an hour is simply earth,
In two it holds grass and flowers,
In three it is once more alive
And warmed by the rays of the star that we call the sun

And we know that it has always been so,
That those who are loved by fate
Are those who live by laws not our own,
Those who are doomed to die young

He can't remember the word "yes," the word "no,"
He can't remember the ranks or the names.
He is capable of reaching the stars,
Discounting that this is a dream
And fall down, singed by the star that we call the sun

Viktor Tsoi
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